


The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend

by CarvcrEdlund



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And i feel fine, Angel Radio, Angels, Angst, Archangel - Freeform, Archangel Gabriel (Supernatural), Crowley and Gabriel have a history, Crowley is a Fallen Angel Headcanon, Darkness, Demons, Feels, Flying, Gabriel Lives, Gen, Heaven, Hell, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I just really want to see Gabriel and Crowley interact, One month is One Decade in Hell, Protective Gabriel, Season 11, Spoilers, The Darkness is just smoke, Wings, Zombies, and by fine I mean OH MY GOD HELP ME PLEASE, badass crowley, but NOT the fun kind, gabrielives, it's the end of the world as we know it, shit happens, written pre-S11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 03:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6103972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarvcrEdlund/pseuds/CarvcrEdlund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(post 11.01, AU) it’s the end of the world… Again.</p>
<p>There are no sides in the fight against the darkness. Team free will is extending it’s membership to anyone willing to help, enlisting the help of people like the King of Hell and the Trickster Archangel. Little did they know, their sassy powerhouses have a history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I wish I owned these guys. I’d be able to pay off my frickin’ student loans, if that were the case. Hell, I wouldn’t even be in college anymore. And, I’ve gotta give credit where credit is due. This story is inspired by **“Rogue”** , a fanfic by _Crawler_ on ff.net that goes into Gabriel’s involvement in history, particularly in Fergus’ life.
> 
> This is really just an excuse to write a meeting between Crowley and Gabriel. And I’m a firm believer in the Crowley/Fergus-is-actually-a-fallen-angel fan-theory/headcanon. I like Mark Sheppard’s and Richard Speight Jr.’s characters. A lot. Like, y’all don’t even know. It’s actually pretty sad. And the guys themselves… :’D They’re both beautiful, beautiful men. Welp. Without further ado (before I have a spaz attack), have a story.

The calm before the storm.

That’s what they call it, right? When it feels like the whole world is holding it’s breath, waiting for the inevitable end.

But this is no storm. This is the darkness. The enemy of life and order. Demons quaked in terror at its mention. Angels dare not speak of it, for fear that just the name could bring about the chaos it embodied. Though it surpasses human memory, even the strongest, most fearless man will avoid the dark out of pure instinct.

Even God realized it had to be locked up. He knows that it is powerful and dangerous.

And now it’s loose.

Sam stared forlornly out the passenger side window of he and his brother’s ’67 Chevy Impala, dwelling on the monster they had unleashed.

Castiel sat in the back, silent in his thoughts. It had been a full month since the beginning of the end, but so far, they hadn’t had any indication that there was a change. The world was still turning. For now. What plagued the Angel, though, was thoughts of Rowena. Somehow, the witch had enchanted him. _Him_ , a fully-fledged angel. He just considered himself lucky that Crowley had rescued him from his brothers and managed to break her power, in the end. Though, it was definitely just to keep him from attacking the King anymore. Unfortunately, the witch was still out there, somewhere.

Dean drove on, his jaw tensed. He didn’t like this, not one bit. This whole thing. Rowena, the darkness disappearing, what Death said… It all adds up to a boatload of trouble. He wanted to blame himself, for being weak, being selfish, being rash… But it would do him no good. It wouldn’t help him fix the mess he made, so he would just have to buck up and deal with it for now.

Their team’s newest addition was elsewhere, claiming that he’d meet up with them later. He wasn’t specific, but they got the idea that he was calling in all his favors. It seems like the only good thing to come out of this mess was that Gabriel was flushed out of hiding. The second that the darkness was released, he felt it, and came to investigate (invisibly at first, and decided it was better to work together after Sam was infected. He cured him, obviously, but with no small amount of bitching about how reckless the Winchesters are). In fact, he’s probably the reason that Sam, Dean, and Baby are still in one piece. It shocked everyone to find out that he was still kicking, but in hindsight, it probably shouldn’t have. He _is_ an archangel after all, and he’s had millennia to hone his talents. If anyone could trick the devil, it would be him.

Crowley had gone off the map. Completely MIA. After the fiasco with Castiel, he hadn’t bothered to stick around. He said something about the Cage to Cass, and then just left. None of them had heard anything from him (he didn’t even answer his mobile), and that was probably for the best. If they were to be honest with themselves, he had every right to be pissed off at them. Cass was still counting his lucky stars, grateful that the King of Hell hadn’t just killed him instead of rescuing him and breaking Rowena’s enchantment. He was knocked out afterwards, and he honestly hadn’t expected to wake up at all, considering Crowley’s recent attitude towards them.

But that was about to change. This problem is bigger than any of them, and even Sam (grudgingly) agreed that the king of Hell and his thousands-strong demon army would be a necessity in the coming fight. If they could get him to help, again.

The operative word being ‘ _If_ ’.

“Are we sure we want to do this?” Sam finally spoke up as their destination came into view. The warehouse. The same one he and Castiel had kept Rowena in for so long. It seemed as good a place as any.

“What choice do we have, Sam?” Castiel’s unassuming, tired voice drifted from the back. “You said it yourself. We need all the help we can get. Crowley, whether we like him or not, has proven to be very helpful on many occasions.”

“There’s no guarantee that he won’t try to kill us for summoning him, Cass. I’m not exactly his favorite person right now…” Sam tried again, growing more and more anxious as they neared the warehouse.

“I don’t think he will. Crowley has never been one to let his anger cloud his judgement. He will hear us out.” _I hope_. The angel is far from certain, but he had to believe that they could get him on their side for this.

“He’ll have to. Even _he_ can’t escape a Devil’s trap, Sammy. Not easily, anyways.” Dean reassured them both, being the most confident about seeing the Demon again. Out of the three of them, he had the least bad blood with the King of Hell. Dean suspected that deep, deep down, Crowley had something of a soft spot for him. He’d listen. At the very least, he wouldn’t kill them all on sight.

“I sure hope so, Dean.” Sam mumbled, looking over the familiar scene as the impala rolled up.

There were other cars parked nearby. Some that they recognized, some that they didn't. They’d called in hunters, officers they’d come across, old military friends of their father’s, even Garth and his pack of werewolves. Every person who knew about them and the supernatural side of the world. After hearing the situation, everyone had instantly agreed to helping in any way they could. The people they didn’t recognize had to be Gabriel’s contacts, an odd collection of humans, monsters, and pagan gods keeping their distances from the hunters.

Jody Mills met them as they left the car, embracing both of the brothers and then giving Castiel a brief hug. “I missed you boys. You never call anymore! And then you do, and it’s to tell me that the end is nigh.” She sounded annoyed, but it came off more as motherly concern. “Come on, everyone’s waiting. Garth is pacing a rut in the ground, wondering what’s been taking you so long.”

Sam and Dean shared a smile, not arguing as they followed her inside, greeting the rest of their friends and acquaintances as they all made their way to the meeting. It’s the end of the world, again. But at least they’d get to see all these wonderful people one more time, even if they fail.

Garth trotted up to them, his signature goofy smile plastered on his face, and Bobby’s hat on his head. “Long time no see, idjits.” The man pulled them into a quick hug. “I got that devil’s trap and summoning ritual set up like you asked. What do you guys plan to do?”

“Good job, Garth. It’s good to see you, man.” Dean smiled at his oddball friend, then sighed. “We’re gonna ask the King of Hell to help us save the world. Don’t worry. We’ve met him before. He won’t attack anybody.”

“Probably.” Sam added, still not convinced. “Tell the others, will you. We don’t want anybody trying to gank him on sight, alright?”

Garth’s brows furrowed, but after a second, he nodded. “Sure thing, Sam, Dean. So… end of the world, huh?”

“Yeah, just your typical Tuesday for ya.” Dean joked, going ahead to where they were going to summon Crowley. “As soon as we figure out if he’s on our side or not, we’ll discuss the plan. Shouldn’t take too long, get everyone ready.”

With a short nod, Garth disappeared, presumably to carry out Dean’s orders. Everything was in place, so Sam just added the last mark in (Crowley’s name) and Dean lit the bowl.

… And nothing happened.

Sam and Dean shared a look. A demon physically _has_ to appear when summoned. Unless he’s trapped somewhere else, or dead.

“Uh…” Sam shifted on his feet. “Garth, you sure you did that right?”

Garth nodded quickly. “Yeah, just like you said, Sam. Used the book and everything.”

Dean looked between his brother and Cass. “You don’t think Rowena…?”

“The ginger whore did _what_ , exactly?”

All of those in the room, Hunter's, monsters, and pagan gods alike tensed as the King of hell appeared. Crowley assessed his surroundings briefly, immediately noting the circle he was trapped in, and then turned his impassioned glare onto the Winchesters. “Having a party, are we? I’d thank you for the invitation, but something tells me that I won’t like what you’re going to say next. I’m busy, and I don’t have time for you right now. Choose your words carefully, Dean.” The demon slipped his hands into his pockets, looking unperturbed by the sheer number of sharp, pointy objects in the room. His gaze singled out Dean, the only person he was currently willing to listen to.

Dean chewed the inside of his cheek, half-wishing that he hadn’t insisted on this. “Do you know about the darkness?” Crowley just raised one eyebrow expressively, as if to say ‘ _why are you bloody wasting my time? Of course I do, moron.’_ Dean gave a short nod, having guessed that he did. “Great, less to explain. We’re all here to try and figure out what to do about it. Will you help us?”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed, glancing at Sam before returning his gaze to the older Winchester. “ _Help_ you? You want me to _help_ you? Winchester, every time I _help_ you lot, I get shafted. What on Earth gave you the idea that I’d _want_ to help you, _again_? Stop wasting my time and break the circle.”

Dean grimaced slightly, feeling the tension in the room increase. “Look, you’ve never wanted the end of the world before, so we figured you wouldn’t want it now. We ain’t asking you to do much, Crowley. Just help us come up with a plan, so we’re all on the same page here.” Dean’s confidence grew, and he took another step toward the King. “This is bigger than any petty rivalries you have with anyone. It doesn’t matter what side any of us were on before, because we’re all fighting the darkness now.”

Crowley deliberated for a moment, his lips tightening as he cast his gaze around again. “What _exactly_ do you have that I might need? A laughable excuse for an angel, a handful of gods, monster scum, and some humans. I have the masses of Hell at my disposal. Who’s to say that I can’t contain this problem without you lot?” He countered, seeming to harden his resolve. They need him, but he doesn’t. And he doesn’t want to work with them. Not again. Not if he doesn’t have to. “You lot just scamper off back to whatever rock you crawled out from under, Hell is already handling the problem. Short of selling us your souls, there’s nothing any of you have that I want.”

Dean grit his teeth, wishing the demon wasn’t being so difficult.

He didn’t have to answer however, because Gabriel chose that moment to finally arrive. “They have me. Will you work with an archangel?”

Crowley snapped his gaze to the newcomer, frowning as recognition dawned in his eyes. Dean saw a range of emotions cross the demon’s face, from anger to sadness. Not exactly what he was expecting.

Gabriel continued when Crowley didn’t say anything. “So you’re Crowley, huh? I kinda thought you’d be taller.” The demon stayed silent, so Gabriel coughed, starting to feel awkward. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging. What do ya say, Crowley?”

“So you _are_ alive. Last I saw _you_ , you went by Loki.” Crowley’s voice was cold as ice, not betraying any feeling, and eerily different from his usual sarcastic speech pattern.

Dean and Sam glanced at each other, then looked between the two most powerful beings in the room anxiously. Something was going down here.

Gabriel frowned, obviously thrown. “Huh? I don’t remember ever meeting you before, pal. But yeah, Loki’s kind of my cover story. Witness protection, yadda yadda.”

Crowley’s jaw tightened. That was the wrong thing to say. “Canisbay. 1673.”

Gabriel glanced at the boys, who’s eyes widened as they realized that was during Crowley’s human life as Fergus. He’d met Gabriel way back then? The archangel in question drew his brows together, trying to recall who he met there.

Recognition flooded into his eyes, and he looked at the demon in a completely new light, checking Crowley’s soul with his true vision just to make sure. “ _Fergus_?”

Now Sam and Dean were thoroughly confused. Gabriel must have met millions of people. Yet, he remembered Crowley? What the hell was going on here?

Crowley’s expression hardened, now openly glaring at the archangel. “So, you _do_ remember. Care to explain yourself? Why did you leave?” And then, as if he hadn’t been acting strange enough, Dean swore the demon looked _hurt_. “Why did you leave, _again_?”

Gabriel looked stricken. If it was possible, even more than he did before. Come to think of it, it was the first time that either of the brothers had ever seen him look guilty. “You remember.” It wasn’t a question.

“Everything.” The King’s tone had a dangerous edge to it.

The archangel’s usual spunk had disappeared, leaving a man who just looked old. So old, and so tired. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have… It shouldn’t have ended like this. Not for you.”

Crowley’s resolve almost wavered at the heartfelt apology, but he couldn’t bring himself to forgive the archangel. It was another moment before he spoke, to Dean this time. “No. I won’t help you. I refuse to work with _him_.” The King spat. Dean could almost feel his rage, contained though it was.

Gabriel stepped forward, closer to the Man he seemed to have a history with. “Cawliel…”

“Don’t call me that name!” The demon snapped, turning his fury on the celestial being. “You don’t have the right!”

… _what?_ The Winchesters stared in blatant confusion at the King of Hell.

It was Castiel who finally broke the tense silence. “I understand now. You always were oddly powerful, Crowley. You were never just a human. You fell. So far.”

Dean stared from Castiel to the demon, who’s gaze was on the Angel, all his previous anger drained. Crowley sighed, turning his gaze to the ground. “Yes.”

Sam took a sharp breath, suddenly realizing what they meant. “You’re a fallen angel.” And, though it seemed really stupid and pointless to point out right now, he couldn’t help but blurt out “So that’s how you were in Mesopotamia. I knew something was off about that. It was too long ago.”

In spite of the tension in the room (or perhaps because of it), Crowley laughed. “Atta boy, Moose, finally figuring that one out. Cookie for you.”

“And you speak Enochian.” Sam added, grimacing at the demon’s patronizing tone.

“Yes, and all the ‘dead’ languages. That little trick comes built-in, boys.” Crowley was quickly growing bored with this.

“And you knew how to interrogate an angel.” Dean’s eyes widened, wondering how they hadn’t ever realized this before.

“From experience. Courtesy of Naomi herself.” Crowley nodded, amusement flickering in his eyes for the briefest second. “I always said you two were rather slow on the uptake.”

There was another short silence as the Winchesters processed this new information. So many things that Crowley did made sense now. But now they had even more questions, too.

Gabriel looked miserable, staring forlornly at his fallen brother. “You never deserved this. What did you do, Cawl—Crowley? Why did they take away your wings?”

“People don’t get what they deserve, they get what they get and make do. You of all people should know that.” The King snapped, his eyes flashing again, but the bulk of his anger had left him. “…I left. I couldn’t stand it anymore. After you flew off the map, nothing was the same. Michael and Raphael took over, turned us into a bloody military. I tried to keep the cherubim out of it, like you would have. But they didn’t trust me. Not after you escaped. Raphael believed I helped you. Naomi interrogated me; it was too much. They thought they could use me to get to you, but I knew it wouldn’t work. I couldn’t hide like you did, and I was too weak to stay, so I fell.” There was a brief silence. You could have heard a pin drop. Everyone; Hunter's, monsters, and gods alike, didn’t dare interrupt this. “ _Why did you leave?_ ” The question was hardly a whisper.

Gabriel couldn’t meet his eyes, guilt marring his usually jovial features. “I was selfish. Nothing was the way it was supposed to be. It wasn’t home anymore.”

With the admission, Crowley’s anger was sated, for the time being. The only emotion left was a kind of quiet hurt. But he had one more question. “Then why didn’t you take me with you?”

Gabriel finally looked up at his long-lost friend. “I didn’t want to drag you down with me, Cawl—Crowley. If I was caught, I… _I_ wouldn’t be punished. But you would have. I didn’t think… I couldn’t have hidden you too. Not completely. I’m sorry. So, so sorry.” He paused, and when Crowley said nothing in response, the archangel went on. “I knew that you fell, when I found your spirit as Fergus. But I believed you were safer, better off living out your life as a human, never knowing what you were, and eventually dying and going to heaven. I never… I never thought that—”

“That I would sell my soul?” The demon interjected, blunt as ever. He looked like he wanted to say something scathing, but held his tongue. Crowley sighed. “That… one, specific thing, wasn’t your fault. I had a witch for a mother. She was a… bad influence, to put it lightly. But in the end, it was my decision. I only have myself to blame.” He looked around, seeming to suddenly remember that they had an audience. “Ah, well.” Dean watched as the King’s typical demeanor returned in full. “That was touching, really. Pulled on my non-existent heartstrings.” The king glanced at the archangel once more before he let out a long-suffering sigh. “ _Fine_. We’ll talk. But first, get me out of this God-forsaken trap, would you? Honestly, isn’t this a little over-done by now?”

It took Dean a moment to stop staring and realize that he was being spoken to. He stepped forward and scuffed his boot through the paint. “See, Sam? I told you he’d come around.”

The taller man scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sure. Until it’s over and he stabs us all in the back.”

Crowley touched his heart, looking affronted. “Moose, you wound me. I never go back on my deals. And I’m about to make you one you can’t refuse.”

Both the Winchesters looked up, suddenly on the defensive. “I’ll beat back the darkness, no strings attached. I’m fighting it anyways, with or without you. The wee beastie’s wreaking hell in… well, in _Hell_ as we speak. I have information on it that you lot need. So if you want me to actually work with you, and _him_.” He shot an unreadable look at Gabriel. “You have to prove it. _You_ came to _me_ for my help, so beg for it.”

The Winchesters shared a look, doing that silent-conversation thing that they do. ‘ _That’s all he wants? There’s gotta be a catch. Doesn’t matter. He’s right, we can’t pass up that information._ ’

Castiel gave a small groan. “This again?” The Angel stepped forward. “Crowley, ‘ _King_ ’—”

“No.” The demon frowned at him. “Not you. You aren’t in charge here.” His gaze flicked back to Gabriel. “He is.” The King met Gabriel’s apologetic gaze with his own hard, unforgiving one. His arms went back down to his sides, his hands in his pockets. “Well? I haven’t got all day. Do you want Hell on your side or not, _brother_?”

The archangel had a fleeting sense of Deja-vu. For a second, Crowley was Lucifer, asking him what side he was on. He’d chosen to give up his pride and risk his life for the sake of his father’s creations then, and he would do the same now.

Gabriel dropped to his knees. “ _Please_. I… we need you, brother. Don’t punish us all for the mistakes of the few. For my mistakes. I’ve wronged you, and I beg for both your forgiveness and your help in our time of need.”

Crowley watched, remaining outwardly unimpressed. He thought that seeing his former leader, former brother, former _friend_ kneel before him and beg would somehow make him happy. That it would somehow make the age-old ache lessen, but all it did was sadden him. No, this isn’t what he wanted. It felt all wrong.

He realized that everyone was waiting for him to say something, but what was he to say? It’s what he asked for, but not what he wants? It isn’t enough? It's too much?

Looking at his Brother now, he finally felt all of his hurt and anger drain away. The hate that had driven him for so long was just… Gone. Gabriel hadn’t meant for this to happen, and he's sorry. Honestly, truly sorry.

_Bollocks_.

Crowley never _could_ stay upset with Gabriel for long.

After what felt like too long, his shoulders relaxed, and he held out a hand to the archangel. “Get up. I…” He trailed off, for the first time in what felt like centuries, he was at a loss for words. He… What? Forgives him? _Does_ he forgive Gabriel? _Can_ he even do that? After all, what right does a demon have to forgive an archangel?

A thought crossed his mind, something God had taught them all, long ago. ‘ _Forgiveness knows no bounds. It is the greatest gift that can be given. To forgive is to seal that which is cracked beyond recognition. To bridge the most wide and daunting rifts. To heal the soul. After Love, it is the most powerful force in all creation._ ’ And looking down at his brother, he realized that if an Archangel could kneel to a demon (former angel or not), then a demon could find the strength to give forgiveness. “I forgive you. I will… ally myself with you once more.” And Crowley pulled his brother to his feet and into an embrace in one swift movement. The King was never known to be the touchy-feely type, but in this instance, he could make an exception.

Gabriel, on the other hand, was incredibly touchy-feely, and clung to his fallen brother, refusing to let go until Dean gave an awkward clearing of his throat. “Um. That might not be the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen, but it’s up there. So if you don’t mind, Lassie and Joe, let’s get to work before the world ends.”

“‘Lassie comes home’, Squirrel? Really, I expected better from you. But yes, you’re right. We haven’t any time to waste. The darkness is spreading in Hell as we speak. It thrives in the chaos there, and it spreads like a disease. It’s only a matter of time before it grows strong enough to bleed over to Purgatory and Earth, and eventually Heaven too.” Crowley’s hands were back in his pockets, and he was standing tall, shoulders back. All business. Even though the information was given quickly and concisely, the Winchesters and Angels could tell that he was worried.

“So that’s why we haven’t seen it here. It’s been in Hell all this time? Why didn’t you say anything?” Sam asked, exasperated. So it had been doing something. Just not where they could see it.

Crowley leveled the younger Winchester with a look. “And what exactly were you going to do about it, Moose? Hell is my problem, not yours. In any case, I’ve been a bit preoccupied with _containing_ it. Hell is chaotic in nature, and the Darkness feeds off of Chaos and shadows. My Kingdom is a bloody all-you-can-eat buffet for it. But, It turns out my rule has been our salvation. I’ve brought _order_ to Hell. (Well, most of it, anyways.) And that’s keeping it from consuming everything for now. It isn’t strong enough to consume things that have order, and that’s why we’ve lasted so long. As soon as we found that out, all my demons have been working overtime to clean the place up, and to be honest? Hell’s never looked better. At least, the bits that _aren't_ swimming in Darkness soup. Of course, my subjects _finally_ get in line just in time for the destruction of everything.” Crowley paused here, looking like he didn’t particularly want to admit this. “But we’ve only slowed it down. As I said before, Hell is, in essence, Chaos and darkness. I can’t change what makes Hell _Hell_. It’s still growing, and it’s only a matter of time before it consumes the entire realm. And then I expect Purgatory is next.” The demon looked beaten after bringing the room up to date. “Short of completely cutting Hell off from everything, which I can’t do anyways, I don’t know how to stop it.”

“So that’s why it fled from me.” Gabriel nodded in understanding. “I went to see what happened when these bozos—” he looked pointedly at Sam and Dean. “—broke the world again, and it parted around me. Must’ve been because I’m a being of order.”

Crowley nodded. “It couldn’t consume me either. Not for lack of effort, however.”

“It tried to _eat_ you?” Dean looked incredulous, his eyebrows jumping up. Sam and most of the rest of the room wore varying degrees of the same expression.

“Of course. It’s intelligent. It knows that if I’m taken out of the picture, Hell will be without a ruler, and therefore weaker and more chaotic. But so far, it hasn’t succeeded, obviously. I’m immune for now, so I’ve been on the front lines helping push it back as much as we can for the past… roughly ten years. How long’s it been here?”

At first, Dean thought Crowley was pulling their leg with the years thing, before he remembered that time moved differently in Hell. “A month. You’ve seriously been fighting a losing war for a decade, and it didn’t occur to you even once to ask for help? What the Hell, Crowley?”

The demon scoffed, shrugging noncommittally. “Oh yes, because I’m sure there are so many people just dying to risk their necks for Hell. Angels are what we need to fight it off, and I know for a fact that not one of the short-sighted feather brains would lift a finger. They’d all sooner watch the world burn than stop Hell from toppling. Just look at the apocalypse. They’d wait for my realm to be gone before they took up arms, and by then it will be too late; _nothing_ will be able to fight it.”

Sam and Dean saw the truth in his words, and were about to let it go when Castiel spoke up. “You’re wrong, Crowley. That may have been true when Raphael and Michael were in charge, but Heaven is different now. Hannah is smart, she will realize the danger of allowing it to continue spreading. All you have to do is ask.” Cass’ eyes twinkled with no small amount of amusement. “What’s the magic word, brother?”

“I definitely owe you at least this much. You know I’ll help, Cawliel.” Gabriel affirmed, using the demon’s angelic name. Crowley noticed with a twitch, but didn’t protest this time.

The irony wasn’t lost on the King of Hell as he listened to his estranged brothers. “… Well, in that case, I suppose it isn’t a _complete_ waste of time to ask. Would you? …  _please_.” The king of Hell almost cringed at the last word, but he managed. He’d do whatever it took to protect his kingdom, even if he had to personally beg this ‘Hannah’ to pull his arse out of the fire. He can stomach some manners.

“Whoah, whoah.” Dean stepped in, distracting all three. “That’s your plan, Crowley? Get some of heaven’s soldiers to keep waging war with you? It took _God_ to lock this thing up before, and you think throwing angels at the problem’s going to work? We’ve gotta have a better plan than that before we go in guns blazing.”

“You’re right Dean. So tell me, do _you_ have any ideas on how else to contain the darkness? Terrible name, really. It’s _far_ more intimidating than that would suggest. I’ve tried damn near everything I can think of, and the only thing that puts a dent in it are holy weapons. And, on top of that, I’m the only demon strong enough to wield such weapons for any significant length of time. So, please, Dean. I’d love to hear any ideas you think haven’t already occurred to me.”

Before Dean could respond, Crowley held up a finger, then turned his head like he was listening to something. After a few seconds, he turned back to the group, panic in his eyes. “I’ve been gone too long. The darkness has breached the rack… my demons… It’s turning into a massacre. I have to go.” And between one blink and the next, the King of Hell was gone.

Gabriel sighed, shaking his head. “It’s so strange. I think know him, and yet, at the same time, it’s like he’s a completely different person. Ah, well. Should I go and help him, or are we still coming up with a plan?”

Castiel looked at the place where the demon had just been. “… Go, see what you can do. Once the problem is contained, tell us what you think our chances are of fighting it off. I’ll speak with Hannah. Sam, Dean.” The Angel looked at his friends, and then around the room. “In this room you have a wide assortment of people and knowledge. Work together, look through history for a way to seal the darkness again. I suggest you start at the bunker.” And with a nod to Gabriel, both the Angels were gone.

“… Huh. You know, I’m almost not surprised that he was an angel.” Sam shook his head, turning to walk back to the Impala.

“He’s so full of surprises, I doubt _anything_ about him can really shock us anymore.” Dean agreed, with a small laugh. “Alright, ladies, gentlemen, everything else, Cass is right. We’ve got work to do, let’s move out.” With Garth, Sam, and Jody at his side, Dean led the emboldened group outside. They had a job to do, and they were damn well going to get it done.

 

* * *

 

Gabriel thought he knew what war looked like. He’d been through Lucifer’s fall, he’s lived for God knows how long. He’s seen every war since the beginning of the Universe. But nothing came close to this.

Demons were fighting other demons, some holding guns, some bearing demonic blades, others holding angel swords that made their essences burn. Both sides were blinking in and out of existence, fighting dirty like only demons know how to. Hell looked like it was at war with itself. It was dark, and the only light came from the occasional flash of red-orange that signaled the death of a demon.

When he found Crowley, the demon’s suit was already ruined beyond redemption, and he was battling with three other demons who all had black marks on their skin that gave them an infected look. They were balancing precariously on the rack’s signature barbed chains as they fought. The King dispatched two, and Gabriel reached him in time to take care of the third.

Crowley looked up to see his savior, and the snarky ‘I could have handled him myself’ died on his lips. “Decided to join the party, hm?” He pulled out his angel-bullet gun and shot another consumed demon over Gabriel’s shoulder. “Took you long enough. Where’s the rest of the cavalry?”

Gabriel decapitated another one of the darkness’s villains. “Just me for now. I’m playing advance scout for Cass and the gang. Sorry to disappoint. So, what exactly are we fighting?”

Crowley pointed below them, to a roiling cloud of dark energy that was slowly creeping up the rack, infecting everything it touched and crumbling the chains as it reached them. “That. The infected demons are new. The bloody bastard is throwing everyone it’s consumed back at us. Using our fallen against us. It’s getting smarter…” Crowley trailed off, hacking his way through another group and decapitating a particularly large Hellhound. “It’s evolving.”

Gabriel smote two demons simultaneously, noting the mindless way they seemed to throw themselves at the other side. “Maybe, but none of the infected are. You’ve ordered your demons to keep away from it, right?”

“Naturally. Though I hardly needed to. Our problem now isn’t the cloud, it’s the disease. They can pass the darkness through contact.” Despite his solemn tone, it looked like Crowley’s side was winning the battle. More of the infected were falling by the minute, especially with Gabriel’s help.

Gabriel kept fighting silently at Crowley’s side, falling into a rhythm with his former lieutenant. Finally, an idea occurred to him. “Crowley. Get out of here with anyone who hasn’t been turned. I’m going nuclear.”

Crowley nodded and relayed the order to his demons. Within seconds, the area was clear, with the exception of the darkness’ minions, who simultaneously converged on their last remaining enemy.

Grinning with the knowledge that he was right, Gabriel let loose, his true form immediately disintegrating the corrupted demons (ha-ha). There was a high-pitched screeching sound that he assumed was the darkness. When he was properly reigned in once more, he could see that the cloud had shrunk back, more stung than actually beaten. But he’d _done_ something. That had to be enough for now.

Crowley was back at his side a second later, surveying the damage. “That was a good idea. The infection is gone, now. But we can’t fight it directly anymore, or that will just happen again. If we fight it, we get infected. If we don’t fight it, then it will just keep advancing, unimpeded. We need angels now more than ever.”

The two of them watched as the darkness regrouped, drawing back for now. The Archangel’s presence made it wary to attack again.

“Yeah, I see the dilemma. That thing… It fills me with dread. Even… Even Lucifer didn’t scare me this much. How the Hell have you all held out so long?” Gabriel’s eyes never left the shadowy monster.

Crowley shrugged, picking an appropriate response. “It may be terrifying, but it’s attacking our home. I didn’t work so hard to get where I am just to have some uppity cloud destroy it all.”

Gabriel cracked a smile at that, recognizing his old friend shining through the demon. “Still stubborn as Hell, I see. C’mon. You and I need to go meet up with Cassie and the God squad.”

“Mm. I’m still not sold on the idea. Unfortunately, I don’t have many options, do I? Beam me up, Scottie.” He put a hand on the Archangel’s shoulder, unable to enter heaven without him.

Gabriel smiled, then took off for the back-door to his home. They came to a stop next to Castiel and Hannah, who were arguing quietly in the presidential office of someone’s heaven.

As soon as the flight was over, Crowley pulled his hand away, looking vaguely sick.

Hannah looked disgusted, and immediately rounded on Gabriel, not realizing who she was talking to at first. “You’ve brought a demon into heaven? Have you no sense?!” But then she got her anger under control, and noticed the six wings of an Archangel. “… Gabriel? What is the meaning of this?”

Crowley wisely didn’t speak, and simply stayed where he was, attempting to appear non-threatening.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Relax, would ya? Cassie’s explained the situation to you by now, yeah? This here’s Crowley, he’s come to give you information on the enemy, and to ask for help.”

Hannah glanced at Castiel for confirmation, getting a nod in return. “I see, my apologies. I wasn’t expecting you so soon, brother.” She turned her attention to Crowley, who stood a bit straighter. “Speak, demon.”

Crowley frowned. He hadn’t expected a warm welcome, but Castiel’s description of Hannah hadn’t led him to expect this level of hostility. “It’s easier if I just show you. May I?” He lifted his hand, asking for permission to touch her forehead.

Hannah looked to Castiel again, silently asking if it was safe.

“Go on, I don’t believe he means to do you harm, Hannah.” Castiel intoned, glancing at Crowley somewhat apologetically.

Hannah nodded stiffly to the King of Hell, and he closed the distance, transferring his memories of the war downstairs straight into her head. She gasped, her brows furrowing as he stepped back and went to put his hands in his pockets.

It was at that point that Crowley realized he hadn’t mended his suit after the battle, as one of his hands went straight through a hole in the fabric. “Bollocks.” With a thought, the suit was restored back to its typical pristine state.

Hannah was quiet for a moment, processing the information just given to her. When she came out of her thoughts, her hostility was muted, and she looked at Crowley with something akin to pity. “I see now. Yes, you’re absolutely right. This threat must be stopped immediately. We cannot afford to waste time and allow it to gorge itself on Hell. Against this enemy, Heaven will ally itself with you. I will assemble the choirs.” And then she was gone.

Crowley let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “That… was easier than I thought. Thank you, both of you.”

“Thank us?” Gabriel laughed, shaking his head. “You did that all on your own, pal. We didn’t do a thing.”

Crowley shook his head, absently wondering why he always seemed to be surrounded by idiots. “She would never have listened to me without you. You got me an audience. Just accept my thanks, moron.”

Gabriel smiled again. “Sure thing, Crowls. I can call you that, right?”

Crowley rolled his eyes, fighting back a chuckle. “Just don’t ever call me _Fergus_. I always hated that name.”

“No kidding. Your human mom was one vindictive bitch.” Gabriel agreed, grinning at the progress he was making. The youngest Archangel missed his choir the most; and of them, Cawliel had been one of his closest brothers. After all this is over, he’ll do everything he can to restore Cawliel to grace. It’s the least he can do.

Crowley snorted derisively. “You have _no_ idea, mate.”

Castiel nodded solemnly in agreement. “Having met the witch, I think I can safely claim that she is worse than most demons in Hell.”

For the second time that day, Crowley looked insulted. “Is that so? I suppose I’ll just have to try harder then, won’t I?”

Castiel’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head quickly. “No! I was, ah… I was, um, just exaggerating! That’s the word.”

Crowley chuckled ‘darkly’ to himself, extremely amused.

Gabriel joined him, both of them enjoying seeing Cass flustered. **_“Chill, bro. I’m pretty sure he’s joking.”_** He spoke over angel radio.

**_“Oh. Yes, I knew that.”_** Castiel looked vaguely embarrassed, causing Gabriel to snicker quietly.

Crowley smirked to himself, since (like Anna Milton) he was still connected to Angel radio. But he didn’t feel like telling them that. Best not to let anyone know all your tricks. He was already kicking himself for letting Castiel and the boys (not to mention the entire room full of hunters, pagans, and monsters) know where he truly heralded from.

On the bright side, at least _Rowena_ didn’t know.

The King of Hell coughed, interrupting the Angels’ mental conversation. “I should return to Hell. I need to assess the damage and see who we lost. Would one of you fine gentlemen mind giving me a ride?” That wasn’t the only reason he was anxious to leave. Being in heaven… it hurt. It physically gnawed at his tainted soul, but the real pain was purely mental. This was his first home, and it dragged up old memories that he’d been spending the last three centuries burying in his subconscious.

Gabriel stepped forward immediately.

“No! Not… You’re a terrible flyer, you know that? Nearly gave me a heart attack, and I don’t even have a _heart_.” Crowley protested, looking at Castiel with silently pleading eyes.

Gabriel chuckles at that, but steps back. “You used to love flying recklessly like that…”

“I’m not who I was.” Crowley retorts snappily, wishing that the archangel would stop trying to compare him to the angel he was before. That’s not him. Not anymore.

Castiel looks between the two, feeling the tension grow between them once more. “Ah, I can’t, Crowley. I have too much to get done.” And then he added to his brother **_“Don’t test him. Just agree to fly more carefully.”_**

Crowley heard, and silently thanked Castiel for it. Unfortunately, he was still forced to spend time with the archangel… But somehow, he didn’t think having someone else fly him would have gotten rid of Gabriel, anyways.

**_“Alright…”_** Gabriel conceded to Castiel. And then out loud; “I won’t do it again. Grandma flying it is.”

Crowley sighed, playing up his annoyance. “Just get it over with, already.”

 

* * *

 

The throne room of Hell looked like a war-time hospice. Weapons lay in a pile by the throne, covered in blood, and currently having holy water dumped on them to make them more potent. The flagstone floor hissed quietly as the water hit it.

Besides that, demons crowded everywhere, some injured, some taking their last, gasping, completely unnecessary breaths. When Crowley returned, it seemed like the room collectively sighed in relief. And for once, the presence of an archangel bolstered their spirits.

The dead were heaped near the doors. Good, someone had been smart enough not to let them lie around for the darkness, like they had been doing.

“My King, it’s Bela…” A rather young demon rushed forward to meet Crowley, having obviously drawn the short stick. No one wanted to be the one to tell their king the bad news.

Crowley immediately tensed, giving the demon his full attention. “Where.”

Bela. Bela Talbot. Bela, who had been by his side throughout this entire war. She had soon become his most trusted demon, and they had now fought back-to-back many times.

The little girl who had begged him to kill her parents. The con artist that could give him a run for his money. The young woman who gave him the colt, in exchange for a place with him once she came out again. Bela, the woman after his heart from the moment he met her.

She had been fighting with him when he’d been summoned.

_No_.

The young demon pointed, and Crowley saw her. The king was at her side in an instant, helping her hold the wound in her side. Her essence leaked from it profusely.

The demon gave him a pained smile. “Hey, tiger.” She reached for Crowley’s unoccupied hand, gripping it with bone-crushing strength. “Crazy party, huh?”

The king propped her up, cradling Bela on his arms. Every eye in the room was on them, but right now, Crowley could care less. _Everything_ that he cares about, everything he gets attached to, leaves him or dies. God, Gabriel, Rowena, his wife, Azazel, Lilith, even Kevin… And now Bela. “I hope you don’t plan to leave early, love.”

Bela let out a small, rueful laugh. “Sorry, babe. Something came up.” She cringed, her essence flashing as her time drew to an end. “… I’m scared.”

“Don’t be. I’m here.” He held her hand tighter, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop this. “Stay with me, Bela.”

The dying demon let her meatsuit’s head loll onto his chest, closing her eyes against the pain. “Thanks for the ride.” With a final flash, Bela was no more.

Crowley’s eyes shut tightly, but he doesn’t cry. If Bela were alive, she’d call him a pussy for crying. So he doesn’t shed a tear.

After a moment of silence, he drops her hand, and gently lays her on the flagstones. The King of hell stands tall, his face set in a grim, hard expression.

“We’ve lost many good men and women. But the war isn’t over, my loyal subjects. And… I have some good news.”

The room perked up at that, desperate to hear something positive after all this time. “The Darkness can be harmed, as we’ve seen in abundance today. Hell is no longer alone in this fight. I’d like to introduce you lot to our newest ally, Gabriel the archangel.” Crowley pauses, gesturing to the short blonde. “And he’s not alone. All of Heaven has agreed to help.”

There are some muttering a of concern and dissent amongst the ranks. Angels? In Hell?

Crowley nods slowly. “I know, and I’m not a fan of it either. But the fact is, we can’t fight her ourselves.” At this, there was some reluctant nodding. Good, at least they aren’t all _completely_ dense. “As much as I am loathe to admit it, Hell can’t win this on our own. So you all will suck it up, and play nice, understand?”

Tentative nods at first, and then more sure ones. Unsurprisingly, it was the younger, newer demons that seemed more open to this course of action. “Good.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Gabriel was watching his once-brother take command with no small amount of pride. Cawliel always was a bang-on leader, and he was the one who kept Gabriel on task, back in the good old days. It’s refreshing to see that he’s lost none of that authority. Of course, he’d be the King of hell. He always said he’d be more important than Gabriel someday. Even as Fergus, in the few years that Gabriel had spent with him [pretending to be his Zana/imaginary friend, at the time (ha, a pretend imaginary friend. The irony.)], he’d always had grand schemes to surpass his mother and peers in everything. He used to tell Gabriel about all the changes he’d make when he becomes the clan leader. How nobody’d have to wear stupid _skirts_ that show off his knobbly knees, and how magic will be respected, not feared, because he hates having to run when anyone finds out about his mum. Ambition and charisma have always been his defining traits.

Gabriel could’ve listened to him for hours, looking past the human boy and seeing Cawliel shine in his voice. But Rowena found him out. Or, realised Fergus had a ‘Zana, anyways. She threatened Gabriel with an odd, Zana-killing blade, and when that didn’t work, she threatened Fergus. He left without a word to protect the boy.

He wonders now if he wouldn’t have been smarter to take Fergus from her and run away with him. But, he wasn’t very responsible in those days. Taking care of a child? He couldn’t possibly. Ah, well… What’s done is done. And Crowley, at least, seems satisfied with his fate. Seems. Not that Gabriel knows him well enough to make a judgement on him. Once upon a time, he could read his brother with a glance. Now, it was like Crowley had three-foot-thick iron walls around him at all times. The archangel doesn’t understand him anymore.

“Gabriel. Gabriel? _Gabriel_?!” Crowley snaps his fingers impatiently in front of the deep-in-thought Angel, dragging the voice of God back into the present. Right. There’s a war on. Pay attention, Gabe. You can brood about your brother later.

Did he seriously just think that? Brooding? _Batman_ broods. Ugh. Stop getting distracted. “Yeah, sorry. I was thinking. What?”

Crowley looked torn between the desire to punch him and laughter. He settled for a sarcastic comment. “Don’t hurt yourself, Angel. As I was _saying_ , you know how heaven works better than any of us. Do you have anything you wish to tell my men?”

_Bullshit, you know just as much, if not more than I do_. Gabriel wants to counter, but at a look from Crowley (who unfairly still seems to be able to read _him_ just fine), remembers that nobody’s supposed to know about his less-than-hell-adjacent origins. “Oh, uh, yeah. Sure. I guess for the most part, just stay out of our way. Our soldiers are most effective when they don’t have to distinguish between friends and foes.” _Laaaame. C’mon, Gabe. You can do better than this_. “If you want to help, you can clear the path to the Darkness. It’s not easy to fly down here for us feathery types. If y’all can get rid of those dangerous, pointy obstacles, we can do our part (excuse the pun) a hell of a lot faster.”

Crowley gives a mildly exasperated eye-roll, but otherwise seems satisfied with that answer. “Well, you lot heard him. Hop to.”

There was a brief period of awkward silence before the demons seemed to register that they had been given an order, and divided themselves up. The wounded stayed behind, for obvious reasons. The inexperienced stayed behind to watch over them and the throne room. The elder, more hell-savvy demons left swiftly to carry out Gabriel’s request.

That left about thirty lesser demons, Gabriel, and Crowley on their own once more. The latter let his shoulders relax finally, heading for his liquor cabinet. Nothing like a good glass of scotch when the world’s coming to an end. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

Gabriel belatedly realises that Crowley is talking to him. “Not really. You and I should probably go give the boys an update.”

He’s right, of course. But that doesn’t mean Crowley has to like it. His lips curve downwards, and the King takes a burning mouthful of his Scotch. “Probably. Scotch?”

“Nah. I’m not a fan.” Gabriel replies, earning a reproachful look from Crowley. If he didn’t know better, he might think he’d just insulted the Demon’s mother.

“Your loss.” The King replies after a second, finishing off his glass. “Right. Let’s go then, shall we? Perhaps Castiel will be there with an update about the Angels.”

Crowley sets down his empty tumblr, then puts a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. The archangel doesn’t miss his sad, final glance at Bela’s body before the King flies them both out of Hell, his speed just shy of reckless. Hypocrite.

The two reappear in the back of the impala, causing the boys to jump, stop the car, and both point guns at them. Upon recognising them, their aim doesn’t change. “Crowley.” Sam growls, not sure whether the demon’s appearance should relieve him or worry him more.

“Good to see you too, boys.” Crowley sounds bored, pushing the barrel of Sam’s gun away with a finger. “Put the toys away, we have news.”

Dean doesn’t look pleased, but he obliges, holstering his pistol. Sam follows suit a second later. “Make it quick, Crowley.”

“What, not gonna say hi to me? I’m hurt.” Gabriel chimes in, earning an impressive double-eye-roll from Sam and Dean.

“Hi, Gabe. Now spill.” Sam concedes, unbuckling so he can face the two beings better.

“Right to the point, then. Thanks to golden boy here, the Darkness is being successfully kept at bay. For now.” Crowley starts.

“And Lucky the leprechaun singlehandedly convinced Hannah to gather the soldiers of Heaven to help.” Gabriel adds cheerfully, grinning in response to the ‘I-will-eviscerate-you-with-a-toothpick’ death glare that Crowley gives him.

Dean looks like he’s trying not to laugh, while Sam looks mildly anxious.

“……. Leprechauns are _Irish_ , moron. If you’re going to mock me, at least get your facts straight.” Crowley responds, then continues like nothing happened. If Gabriel were _anyone_ other than Gabriel, the Archangel, he’d have his small intestine wrapped around his neck by now. “Long story short, it looks like we might actually stand a chance. We’re still going to have to find a way to lock her up, though.”

“Actually, we might have something for that.” Sam speaks up. “You see, Dean and I ran into this guy a while back, a pretty powerful warlock who helped up on a case. So get this; it turns out, he’s actually Merlin. _The_ Merlin. No, I'm not making that up, I swear.” Gabriel lifted a brow, impressed. Even he hasn't ever been able to sniff out history’s most significant magical being. Crowley looks like he has a few reservations, but lets Sam continue. “Point is, he’s locked loads of things away. Everything from Excalibur to Morgana. He’s invented spells before, and he thinks that if we can describe the ritual Rowena performed, he can reverse engineer it and trap the darkness again.”

Dean lets his brother finish before chiming in with a good-natured snort. “Sammy was all over the idea. I'm pretty sure he’s in love.”

Sam glares, punching his brother on the shoulder. “Shut it, jerk. I'm just excited to fix this mess.”

Dean doesn't seem too concerned, just continuing to drive. “You were _totally_ geeking out over Merlin, and you know it, bitch.”

Sam gives an exasperated sigh, and belatedly notices that Gabriel and Crowley are once again, gone without a word.

Dean notices a second after and shrugs, turning R.E.M.’s ‘It’s the end of the world as we know it’ up. He nudges Sam, amused by the appropriateness of the song.

The younger brother loosens up after a heavy moment, unable to stay too miffed at Dean for long.

“ _It’s the end of the wooorld as we know it, and I feel fine…!_ ”

 

* * *

 

The world might end tomorrow, or any day after… but then again, it might not. They’ve stopped impossible things before, with less help than they have now. They might just save the day, one more time. Things were looking up for the Winchesters.

And not only them, but another pair of brothers as well.

Far away from the singing humans in the impala, under an ancient tree in a forgotten garden, a demon protested being dragged away, and an angel simply brushed him off with a joke. The demon might attempt to act as if he were still miffed, but he would smile despite himself, and the Angel knew that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to put things right. 


End file.
